Hopeless Dreams
by ohbethyl
Summary: The prison has fallen. Daryl and Beth have been forced together to stay alive. Being alone in such close proximity leads to moments between the pair that before now they'd never have imagined could occur. Whilst struggling with a myriad of problems the duo grow close, whilst chasing a fairytale dream of Beth's that Daryl only hopes he can fulfil for her.
1. Chapter 1: Run

**Title: **Hopeless Dreams.  
><strong>Author:<strong> Myself.  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>The Walking Dead  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M for adult themes, violence, bad language.  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene (Bethyl)  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Much to my dismay, I do not own The Walking Dead, Beth Greene or Daryl Dixon, though I wish I did. This is set after **Too Far Gone in Season 4.**

**Hello! This is my first entry here, I hope you like the beginning to what I hope will be an exciting, tense and adorable fanfic of this cutesy pairing.**

**Please rate and leave comments- constructive criticism and compliments are both a joy to receive, I'd also like to know how many people would like to see this continue and see what happens next! :)**

**ALSO: I'd also like to point out that I am from England, and though I have tried to make the story as American-sounding as possible due to its setting etc, I have still spelled words using British English so don't think I'm an idiot who can't spell lol!**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter 1: Run.**

* * *

><p>"We gotta go, Beth. We gotta go."<p>

The conviction in his voice let her know he wouldn't take no for an answer. His eyes pierced hers, burning through her and willing her to find strength to run. Turning back one last time to scan the prison yard for a trace of her family, she could see a dozen walkers ambling closer to them. She found that strength by some miracle, and she ran. They both ran and ran and ran, until Beth felt like her lungs were going to collapse and the contents of her stomach empty all over herself. She was sore from the constant slapping of the carbine rifle against her back. Daryl, as fit as he was, could feel his legs aching so terribly he thought they might disintegrate. Hours might have passed, they still hadn't stopped. Hadn't gotten a chance to, seeing as walkers plagued their path at every turn.  
>"Damn" he thought. Those bastards probably heard every explosion, every gunshot and every scream from the prison, most likely they were shuffling in that direction from miles around.<br>"Daryl! Daryl..." Beth whimpered, slowing her pace to a stop. He turned around and was met with a dishevelled Beth with bright red eyes, doubled over with both pain and distress. "We gotta go back... We can't... Daryl, we need to go back" she cried, tears now streaming down her cheeks.  
>"We can't. Don't you understand that we can't? You saw how that was, there's nothing left there" was his harsh reply.<br>Through sobs she pleaded "please, we've got 'ta, we-".  
>"What part of 'we can't' don't ya get? There's ain't nothing there to go back to!" he spat.<br>At this Beth cried even harder, so hard that she couldn't breathe, and her whimpers now turned to empty, silent gasps for air. Daryl saw her face drop as he spoke. He realised the severity of his words now, the callousness in his tone and he internally cursed himself. Why did he always have to speak before thinking? Her father had just been murdered in front of her, her sister is nowhere to be found and the baby she practically raised for eight months is probably dead, and he's shouting at her? He knew he was being a jerk but Daryl being Daryl found it hard to apologise. His face softened and he moved closer to her, his hand outstretched to touch her, but as it reached her shoulder she flinched and jerked away, as if she was disgusted by him. Just seeing the look of contempt on her face made his heart sink.

"Look, Beth. I'm sorry."  
>Now too exhausted to fight back anymore she succumbed to his attempts of comforting her. He was standing inches away from her now, bringing his arms around her shoulders and awkwardly drawing her into his chest. She didn't reciprocate though secretly she welcomed the contact. He wasn't good at this stuff, he felt uncomfortable and gauche as he held her. She smelled of all the things you'd expect someone to in the apocalypse: mud, sweat and dirty cotton, but Daryl would swear that past all that there was a hint of vanilla.<br>"Maggie is out there though, we need to find her! And Judith, I lost her, I lost her, Daryl! Please..." she bawled, snivels interspersed between her words.  
>"We will find them, but not now. It's me and you for now, kid, but we'll find them soon. I promise", his voice was softer than Beth had ever heard it now. They broke apart and just at that moment a walker stumbled into view. Daryl dispatched it with one swift stab of his knife, yet as that one fell to the ground and he glanced up, a dozen more staggered out of the tree line to the road they were standing on.<br>"Shit. Beth, c'mon quick" and he ran past her, grabbing her arm on the way and the unlikely pair started off again down the road.

...

The sun was finally setting on Georgia, creating a striking, swirling sky of oranges and reds. Beth was staring intently at the sun which was now peeking behind a cloud on the horizon, silently admiring the fact that beauty such as this can be found in even the ugliest of Worlds. They had at last stopped running and found a moderately safe clearing in the forest to set up camp for the night. Daryl was cooking skewered squirrel over a low fire he had made, and despite the fact that she was starving, Beth really wasn't looking forward to squirrel skewers.  
>"Here ya go, get tha' down ya". Daryl passed her the meat and she took it without a word. She hadn't said much at all for hours actually. Quiet little Bethy she was, but even this was unlike her, Daryl thought. But then, what must she be feeling right now? She stared into the fire, the skewer gripped tight between her fingers, though she still hadn't tucked in.<br>"Come on, Beth. I made that lovely for ya!" he forced a smile in the hope it could cheer her up but instead Beth glared at him with an uneasy half smile-half frown.  
>"I'm not hungry" was her stern reply, though it lacked certitude as though it pained her to lie.<br>"Quit your bull', girl. 'Bin hearing your stomach growl for hours", he retorted.  
>Instead of replying, Beth set the squirrel down and crawled to a relatively dry spot on the ground to sleep.<br>"I wouldn' sleep on that bare grass if I were you. 'Ground here is full o' June bug larvae".  
>He had to be kidding. All the human guts she's seen in the past year and he thinks she's gonna worry about beetles? Beth snorted in derision.<p>

Sighing, Daryl joined her on the ground. "Here" he whispered as he piled leaves into a small nest beside her, completing the makeshift bed by taking off his angel wing vest and moulding it into a pillow for her. The young woman turned on her side to observe the older man's handiwork before glancing up and focusing her eyes on his. "Thank you" she murmured, almost so quiet it was as if she had only mouthed it. They continued staring into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity, though was probably no longer than ten seconds. His eyes had a beautiful blue hue, much like her own; they didn't sparkle like Beth's though, it was more like they were reflecting all the pain he'd ever felt right back at her, and she felt like she was looking deep into his sad soul. Suddenly Daryl felt awkward, stifling an uncomfortable snort and diverting his gaze elsewhere. "Pfft, come of it, girl", he grunted.  
>"Wha'dya mean?" Beth asked, in the most innocent voice she could make. She was still looking at him, confused about the whole situation, like, how did she find herself lost in Daryl Dixon's eyes just then? <em>Daryl Dixon's?<em> She knew exactly what he meant, but decided to play it off like nothing important happened, rather than getting defensive.  
>"Nothin'", Daryl shrugged. He wondered for a moment if he'd imagined the whole thing. No, of course not. Despite him being confident he was not and never will be attracted to Beth in any way, shape or form, he couldn't help but feel slightly disheartened at her plain rejection. <em>God dammit, Daryl, keep it together.<em>

They quickly said their goodnights as Daryl created his own little nest and snuggled up in his own arms in an attempt to keep warm. Understandably though, it was incredibly hard to fall asleep on rough leaves, crinkling with every toss and turn, the threat of Walkers, or worse, other people, constantly looming over them. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen minutes. By the time the pair had been trying to drift off for twenty minutes, Daryl packed it in and decided he ought to keep watch anyway. He laid against a fallen tree branch, over thinking that moment between him and the young girl who was pretending to sleep a metre away from him. His mind was filled with the same scene, playing over and over so many times he began to question how much of it he was now fabricating.

An uncomfortable silence surrounded them, until Daryl broke the ice.

"Beth... Are you awake?".


	2. Chapter 2: Too Good To Be True

**Hello again! Thanks for all the follows/favourites and comments so far, keep 'em coming! :)**

**Chapter 2: Too Good To Be True**

* * *

><p>Beth continued to feign sleep. Daryl still knew, though, regardless of her pretence, that she was indeed awake. The way she was unnaturally still and didn't blink the way a sleeping person does gave it all away. He continued speaking to let her know he knew the truth.<p>

"I'm.. I'm sorry about your daddy. He was a great man, a tough son-of-a-bitch and I'll...I'll miss him too, you know." He stuttered out, as if it pained him to be heartfelt. At the mention of her father, Beth's ears pricked up and she flickered open her eyes. "I know how it feels to be alone. How it feels when you think yer family is all gone and yer all tha's left."

Beth started sitting up, tears brimming as she absorbed the first real words of consolation Daryl Dixon had ever given her. "When Merle died, I was lost at first 'cause, like, that was it, my family was gone, until I realised all y'all were my family really, my blood, and without even knowing it y'all pulled me through." She was now staring fixedly at Daryl; as he opened up to her she could see him for the first time, properly. He always held this facade of a harsh, contemptible redneck, but all she could see right now was a down-trodden, sensitive man, whose hard-heartedness was misjudged. Daryl cared about the group, he loved Judith and she knew he was going to do everything to protect her. He made her feel safe.

"I..." She started but couldn't seem to get her words out. "I'm sorry," she muttered at last. Disregarding her words he carried on, as though if interrupted he wouldn't be able to express this level of emotion again. "Except yer not alone, Beth. It's shitty I know but yer still got, er, me... But I guess that's not much reassurance..." he said, a defeated look spreading across his dirty face.

She giggled to stop herself from crying. "Daryl, you're not that bad," she smiled. For the first time today he made her feel better and she genuinely seemed amused for a moment. She also became suddenly aware that this was the most she had ever heard him say at once.

"I'm honoured that you think I'm 'not that bad'," he smirked. " You've got Maggie, too. And I know you have, she's out there somewhere fer sure. She's a tough son-of-a-bitch an' all."

"I hope you're right," she sighed, returning to her position on her improvised bed. She turned on her side away from Daryl so that he could not see the heartbroken, glazed look upon her face, and the single tear that rolled down her cheek.

...

The next day was spent walking through trees and fields to no end- until they happened upon a vast plot of land: It was clearly an old farm, not as expansive as Beth's, more like a smallholding. There was a quaint farmhouse at the top of a winding mud track, surrounded on both sides by wooden picket fences and overgrown trees. On the other side of a small field stood a big, red barn which looked so dilapidated it might fall down at any moment. The place appeared suitably abandoned, with no walkers, or people, in sight.

Beth gasped at the site of the lot, "surely this is too good to be true...".

"Looks damn near perfect to me, then again, that's what we thought about the farm and you know how that turned out," Daryl retorted. They crept their way up the dirty path to the house, Daryl in front with crossbow at the ready, and Beth behind with her carbine. When they reached the house they began planning a strategy to sweep the building, but formations were difficult and almost useless with only two people. Daryl half expected Rick to be standing to the right of him, ready for the signal. His heart sunk when realisation hit him.

"Okay, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Whatever. You cover me, we'll take downstairs first, when that's clear we'll make our way up. Don't be afraid to shoot. Okay?"

"Okay," Beth grunted back. Daryl quietly pushed open the door, stepping inside with his crossbow at eye level. The floorboard creaked as he traipsed past the threshold, alerting a walker in the next room to his arrival. Seemingly from nowhere, a tall, blonde-haired, walker woman wearing dungarees lunged at Daryl, snapping its jaws at his arm before he put it down with an arrow to the forehead. Beth was trembling.

"Fuckin' skanky farmer's wife! I'll bet the whole friggin' family's in 'ere an' all." Daryl hissed. He was right. The sound of the farmer's wife falling to the floor brought in the farmer himself, which Daryl shot before it even got close. "Finger's crossed they didn't have any farmer kids an' all," he jested. As soon as Daryl finished his sentence he heard a squeal. A young female walker had Beth pinned against the wall as she desperately tried to reach for her gun which she had dropped in surprise, all whilst holding the walker back. It was hastily put down by Daryl's knife. The young girl launched herself into Daryl's arms, shaking and quietly crying "thank you, thank you." As he held her he looked down at the walker collapsed at their feet, noticing blood and a trace of human flesh between its teeth. Daryl felt sick to his stomach at the sight, and he roughly checked Beth for bites to see if it was her skin the walker had chewed.

"What is it?" Beth asked, panicked.

"Were you bit?"

"What? No!" Daryl ran his hands over her body to make sure, but thankfully she was unharmed.

"Sorry. It's got blood on its mouth, it fed recently," the tracker explained. They exchanged worried looks and continued.

"Be careful from now on, girl. Yer gonna get yerself killed. Or both of us," Daryl growled, eliciting a scowl from Beth. The downstairs was now clear, so the pair made their way up the stairs to be pleasantly surprised by an outwardly empty floor. Until they heard faint sobs coming from a wardrobe in the smallest bedroom. Straining to listen, Daryl put his hand to his ears and detected the unexpected noise. He turned to indicate to Beth to follow him, and slowly pushed open the creaky door to the room. The cries were louder now, yes, definitely coming from the wardrobe. Beth bravely went forward to the side of the closet, hand on the doorknob, glancing at Daryl to wait for his signal.

He nodded. She tugged the door open and watched Daryl as he released a gasp, his eyes widening in astonishment...

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Note: This is about to get a whole lot more exciting, hope my constant cliffhangers aren't winding you up! ;)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3- 'Till There Was You

**Hello! Here were are with chapter 3, hope you enjoy it :) Please review, it makes me so happy to hear what you all think of my story, I literally read through new reviews with a huge smile on my face :D Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: 'Till There Was You.**

* * *

><p>Huddled in the corner of the closet was a tiny figure, whimpering, with its face turned away from Daryl as if that would lessen its visibility. Beth moved to see that the figure was a little girl with a short blonde bob streaked with blood. In fact, her whole body was covered in blood.<p>

"Shh... We're not gonna hurt you, little girl," Beth soothed, her voice softer than Daryl had ever heard it. "Come out and we can help you, it'll be okay."

Whether it was the kindness in Beth's voice or sheer desperation in the girl, she slowly turned around and offered her hand out to Beth. Smiling her sweetest smile, Beth took the child's small hand in hers to let her know it was okay. Outstretching her arm, the little girl winced in pain and withdrew it, and both Beth and Daryl were made painfully aware of why the child was covered in blood.

...

"It hurts," the child whimpered, sitting on the bed as Beth gently dabbed at a severe bite on the girl's forearm.

"I know, sweetie. What's your name?" Beth looked over at Daryl and they shared a sad and knowing look. Beth looked down to hide her tear-filled eyes. "Huh?"

"Sophie," the girl squeaked. At this, Daryl's head shot up, his face dropped. Memories of Carol's daughter and his unavailing search for her came flooding back, igniting an instinct in him.

"Beth." The young woman met him at the other side of the room. "We need to do somethin'. Take the arm off, or somethin'!" Desperation altered the sound of his voice, Beth would swear it sounded almost squeaky. She offered him an apologetic glance and slowly shook her head.

"Daryl. You know it's too late for that, that only works when done immediately. Fever has set well in and she's not gonna last much longer, I'm afraid..." Beth whispered so that the child couldn't hear her.

"How can you say that? She's jus' a kid! Why are you so eager to give up?"

"Don't give me that! I'm not eager, bullshit! I'm just living in reality here. Jesus, Daryl! Wake up!" she shouted, which made Sophie cry even harder. Daryl stormed off down the stairs, jumping two steps at a time and Beth returned to her seat next to the girl.

"My sister did it." Sophie mumbled after a minute of complete silence.

"What, honey?"

"My sister, Jaycie, bit me. I was try'na to look after her. Mommy and daddy wouldn't wake up and neither would Jaycie and I was shakin' her and beggin' her to just wake up and then she did. But she wasn't actin' right. Then she bit me." Sophie recalled the events with glassy eyes, never taking her eyes off the door, as if trapped in a trauma-induced coma. Beth wasn't sure how to react. She'd always been such an shy, anxious girl who didn't always know what to say and when to say it. She would lose her words when put in awkward positions and stutter, she did it when Jimmy asked her out and it had been terribly embarrassing. This was one of those times, the circumstances were just a thousand times more harrowing. She stumbled over words, trying to construct something comforting, yet all she good think of was "sorry." She decided to change the subject instead.

"How old are you, Sophie?"

"8-and-a-half," she replied, with an angelic, sing-song timbre for a voice. Beth's affection for the girl grew by the second, which made Beth lament for she knew it would be harder to say goodbye. Beth considered relinquishing attachments, spending less time with her to make it easier on herself later, but quickly dismissed such a selfish thought. _What would my father think?_ She could hear Herschel's omniscient voice echoing in her head, "put the dying child's needs before your own. Imagine facing death without a single person to hold your hand, then you'll understand, Bethy." This made her think of how her father faced his death. Alone and surrounded by soldiers. Sacrificed. Choking back tears she turned to Sophie. "Hey. How would you like somethin' to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Okay... Do you wanna go to sleep?"

"Not really."

"How about I sing you a song, would that make you feel better?" Sophie's eyes flickered up and she bounced slightly on the bed. "Okay," Beth laughed, "you get under these covers and I'll sing to you."

"Can you sing me one mommy used to sing?" Sophie pleaded, hope in her sunken eyes. Beth asked her what the song was. "Till There Was You," was her softly spoken answer. Sophie was lying against the pillows now, snuggled under the covers, slowly sinking into sleep. Sweat beaded across her tiny head, wetting the hair that hung around her face. Beth smiled when Sophie named one of her own favourite Beatles' songs.

"'Course I can, sweetie." Tucking a damp lock of hair behind the child's ear she took a breath and took hold of a tiny hand and began:

"There were bells on a hill,  
>But I never heard them ringing,<br>No I never heard them at all,  
>'Till there was you,<p>

There were birds in the sky,  
>But I never saw them winging,<br>No I never saw them at all,  
>'Till there was you,<p>

Then there was music and wonderful roses,  
>They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew-"<p>

Beth stopped with a sigh because Sophie had fallen asleep- or unconscious, she wasn't sure but she knew she was still alive at least.

...

Downstairs, Daryl was slouched against the floor and the wall, one hand holding up his head and the other idly scratching the floorboards with an arrow. He'd heard every word of Beth's rendition. He enjoyed her voice more than he'd care to admit; the exaggerated Southern twang she got as she sung, the way she could always lighten the mood. But not this time. This time she'd made him even sadder somehow. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to save these kids who he barely knew, but he supposed it was to do with how when he was a kid nobody ever tried to help him. Not when Merle had left him with his abusive father or when he was lost in the woods with an ivy-poisoned ass. He remembered wishing, despite how tough he pretended to be, that a stranger might rescue him from it all. But instead they would turn their nose up at him in his ripped up hand-me-downs, the kids at school would avoid him because he played too rough- when he wasn't playing hooky, that was. All his childhood, Daryl wanted someone to just care for him. He just longed for someone to actually miss him and search for him when he got lost or ran away, so he tried his damned hardest to search for Sophia. He wished someone would have given him unconditional love, and tried their best to give him everything he needed, so he adored Judith and risked his life, time after time to get her formula. He had hoped that one day someone would try and save him, so here he found himself, almost thirty years later, distraught that he couldn't save this little girl Sophie. He knew he couldn't but that still didn't stop him from trying to convince himself that Beth was to blame. But he couldn't. Beth was right. As the young woman climbed down the stairs to join him, he'd begun wondering why it is his efforts to save these children always failed, was he really _that_ useless?

"She's sleeping now, I... I don't think it will be long," Beth stammered.

"Beth, don't you think you'd be better off without me?" Daryl muttered, refusing to lift his head to reveal his tear stained cheeks.

"What? Daryl, where has this come from? Because you got mad? You're just frustrated, is all. I get it. But no, no way. I'd be lost without you. If I didn't have you I'd have been walker food earlier," she tried to smile but he wasn't even paying attention. Joining him on the floor, she placed herself a little too close for Daryl's comfort, but he let her. Unsure of how to console him, she simply laid her palm on his shoulder and stared at the side of his face, as if her eyes alone could command him to look at her. He didn't, though. He carried on engraving the floor, more furiously now.

"Daryl." the blonde asserted. "Daryl, _stop_." And just like that he ceased the scratching. In frustration the arrow was launched at the wall parallel to them, causing Beth to flinch. "Hey, it's okay," Beth cooed, much like she did when talking to Sophie. The redneck continued to ignore her, his head purposefully turned away. "Daryl!" She spoke through gritted teeth and finally he met her deep blue eyes with his own. She offered him a sullen smile and he tried his hardest to beam back at her, but all he could come up with was a tight-lipped frown. "It's okay," she reminded him and he nodded in response.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors note: Wow, sorry for such a depressing chapter but it had to be done! Poor Daryl :( Oh, and no cliffhanger for once, omg!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4: Dreams

**Warning: This chapter contains profound cuteness! I do like this chapter; I've done my best to make it dark, funny, romantic and adorable all in one! Enjoy and please review :)**

**Chapter 4: The Dream**

* * *

><p>"Bethy," Herschel beamed, strolling towards the young woman who stood at one end of the cell block catwalk, taking her chin in his wrinkly hands. She smiled back, glancing down at the floor and noticing her father's legs before meeting his kind, blue eyes again. She smiled an even brighter smile this time.<p>

"I love you daddy," she whispered.

"Bethy, we all got jobs to do, remember? Yours is to be strong." His voice was vacant, and distant, almost. He planted a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead.

"Okay, daddy."

Beth closed her eyes as she spoke and a single-tear escaped, staining her cheek. She reopened them and was immediately aware that her father was gone. She panicked, searching all around her for some sign of him; she finally noticed, too, that she was no longer stood in the safety of Cell Block C, but rather, an infinite white space with nothing but herself contained in it.

"DADDY!" she screamed, but the sound just resonated harshly in her ears. She started spinning- or the room did. She couldn't tell. Beth yelled until the echoes were so loud she felt her eardrums pop. She collapsed to her knees in pain, clasping her hand over her ears, internally screaming. The walls were becoming apparent now as blood dripped from ceiling to floor all around her. The sudden burst of colour proved the room was not so infinite. In fact, it was tiny. So small that Beth felt claustrophobic. Her father appeared again, directly in front of her, bent down on his knees just like she was.

"You've failed me, Bethy." Her father's voice was cold and cruel, like she'd never ever heard it before.

"No, daddy, please," she sobbed. Herschel's face turned stoic and lifeless as a cut materialised across his neck, with no weapon or assailant in sight. Beth felt her heart stop as she watched her father fall on his side, blood weeping from his wound. She opened her mouth to screech "DADDY!" but she made no sound. All she made was breath. Her chest tightened and her face screwed up as she tried repeatedly, in vain, to call out. She felt helpless. Falling backwards in exhaustion she expected to hit the ground, but instead she continued plunging deeper into a seemingly eternal abyss.

...

Daryl entered the room to find Beth tossing and turning at the foot of Sophie's bed, half-sobbing into the quilt. "Beth?" No answer. He strode over to the girl and took her by the shoulder, shaking her gently at first, then more vigorously when she still refused to wake. She finally jolted awake, desperately checking her unfamiliar surroundings before clocking the hand still placed upon her shoulder.

"Daryl," she breathed, before bursting into fits of tears.

"Shhh. S'alright. Jus' a bad dream, is all," Daryl hushed, taking the small woman into his arms so that her head rested against his stomach and her arms around his waist. Beth was far too distracted by her nightmare to notice the intimacy this position gave the pair, yet Daryl was made painfully aware of it and how his body reacted to the touch. As Beth wrapped her slender arms around his hips, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck pricked up and a small wave of heat surged through his stomach right where Beth laid her head. He hated himself for it, but every fibre in his body at that moment demanded to feel her soft lips on his. He shook the thoughts out of his head and settled, instead, with gently stroking her silken, blonde hair.

...

Hours passed whilst Daryl and Beth took turns to watch over Sophie- waiting, really. They were waiting for her to die. Beth thought it was sick in a way, but so is the way of the World these days. She also wondered why Daryl was refusing to stay in the room with her. He made excuses to leave when it was her shift, and asked her to go when it was his.

"Won't you stay and keep me company?" She asked after relieving him of Sophie Watching Duty for a third time. He had made a move to scarper but her words caught him dead in his tracks.

"Nah, gotta go... Make sure no walkers come near the house," he mumbled.

"Please. Just for a lil' while."

The man gave in, nodding at Beth in place of a vocal reply before replacing himself in the seat by the bed. Beth sat at the bottom of the bed.

"You think others made it away from the prison?" Beth asked, hopeful, after minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"I dunno," was Daryl's truthful answer. Beth made a face at his less than helpful, conversation-killing response. She was beginning to regret asking him to stay, his presence offered nothing but sheer tension. He said nothing, didn't even look at her, so she just sat there and awkwardly twiddled her thumbs. Soon she began jiggling her head and puffing out her cheeks to provide some form of childish amusement, but when Daryl noticed, his face was far from amused. So she started making a popping sound with her lips, being purposefully annoying now so Daryl might at lease tell her to shut up. _That'd be better than nothing_. _Pop... pop... _ She was acting so juvenile, Daryl thought. He knew she was young but _dammit, girl._ He knitted his brow in frustration for a second, before stifling a snigger. Beth looked up at him, wide-eyed and triumphant, she had made him laugh if only for a second. She did it again, once, and he snickered again, causing her to giggle, and soon the both of them were in fits of laughter over nothing.

"You're damn near crazy, Beth," Daryl chuckled, standing from his chair to leave.  
>"Made you laugh though, didn' I!" The blonde giggled. He gave her a side-ways smile and hopped off down the stairs. Moments later she heard the door bang shut and all was quiet again. She frowned. She missed him already.<p>

...

As Beth watched Sophie intently whilst she slept, she observed how the little girl's breathing slowed down over the course of about half an hour. By the end of those thirty minutes the child's breaths were two-a-minute, and Beth realised it wouldn't be long. She sighed, closed her eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them. Beth returned her gaze to the child and noticed that her breathing had suddenly ceased entirely. Her stomach lurched and she jumped out of her seat to check the girls pulse. It wasn't there. She was gone. Panic set in because Beth knew the girl would turn soon.

"DARYL!" She shouted for the hunter, but he had not returned since he left her earlier. She had no choice but to do it herself, and she quickly cursed herself for thinking she could wimp out anyway. Knife in hand, she moved it to the child's temple and shut her eyes tight. _Nobody should ever have to experience killing a child_, she mused, her hand trembling. She lined up the knife, looked away and sunk the blade into Sophie's brain, so that she never had to become one of _them_.

The quilt was pulled over Sophie's face just as Daryl returned. He walked in as Beth slumped down in her seat, a bloodstained knife held idly in her hand. His face softened with sympathy as he observed the young woman before him, whose face was so empty now he felt she was barely there at all.

...

"Why don't I sing you a song?" Beth and Daryl were huddled in blankets, surrounded by every pillow in the house and warmed by a roaring coal fire in the living room. The scene was reminiscent of the slumber parties Beth would engage in before the apocalypse, but for Daryl, it was a completely new, yet strangely satisfying situation. Daryl was sinking his teeth into some stale chocolate digestives he'd found in the cupboard and Beth was sipping some flat Coca-Cola.

Daryl groaned playfully, "Ugh, please no. A man can only take so much trauma in one day," he chuckled. She giggled back as she jokingly hit him with the cushion she was cuddling.

"I know yer kidding, you love my singing," she laughed again. "Ahem." She cleared her throat, exaggerating her cough. Daryl was unusually happy this evening... Maybe mountains of pillows, giggling and biscuits can even soften the heart of the surliest rednecks, Beth contemplated. "Well, he gave her a dimestore watch. And a ring made from a spoon. Every-" she started before Daryl interrupted with a "no-no-no". Beth glowered at him.

"Ya'll ready sung that one! If ya gonna do it, do one I haven't heard," he chortled. Beth rolled her eyes.

"Fine." She searched her memory for a different song and settled on one of her old favourites. Before starting for the second time she flashed Daryl a daring smirk, sending shivers down Daryl's spine. That wiped the grin off his face.

_"Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you  
>'Cause falling in love just makes me blue,<br>Well the music plays and you display  
>Your heart for me to see,<br>I had a beer and now I hear you  
>Calling out for me<br>And I hope that I don't fall in love with you._

As she sang that last line she smiled at Daryl and he smiled an awkward smile back. _Is she trying to tell me something_, he thought. _Of course not, Jesus Christ. _He looked down. She carried on.

_I can see that you are lonesome just like me,  
>And it being late, you'd like some company,<br>Well I turn around to look at you,  
>And you look back at me,<br>The guy you're with has up and split,  
>The chair next to you's free,<br>And I hope that you don't fall in love with me._

Daryl look sullen. _I won't do, thank you very much_, he said to himself bitterly.

_Now it's closing time, the music's fading out  
>Last call for drinks, I'll have another stout.<br>Well I turn around to look at you,  
>You're nowhere to be found,<br>I search the place for your lost face,  
>Guess I'll have another round<br>And I think that I just fell in love with you."_

Beth finished her song and simpered, looking proud of herself yet slightly embarrassed. Daryl had started daydreaming, partly about her, partly about nothing at all. He snapped out of it and offered a grin, clapping his hands light-heartedly. Beth retaliated by pretending to bow. He gave her a slight nod and jumped up, sending the pillows he was buried under flying.

"There's something I forgot to get out in the kitchen, be right back," he winked and hurried off into the next room. Beth wondered what it might be, ideas whizzing around her head. One that she couldn't shake was how increasingly aware she had become in the last two days of Daryl's unobvious, yet still apparent, sex appeal. She'd thought when they first met he was a scraggy, ne'er-do-well redneck, whose irrational behaviour was both unnerving and dangerous. Then she began to realise, mostly through his willingness to risk his life for this girl called Sophia, that he wasn't _all _bad, really. Over the winter months she became to respect him. He provided safety and his hunts for food never failed them when they were starving. By the time they were well settled into the prison she noticed his more sensitive side and she started to genuinely like him. She also couldn't help but notice his muscley arms and messy hair. He was kinda hot, she concluded, but she didn't fancy him. Not even when she hugged him that night Zach died. The contact sent sparks across every inch of her skin as he reciprocated her touch, but she still didn't fancy him, no way.

She was sure she still didn't, they were just friends and he was still a stinky redneck. The man in question re-emerged, disrupting her thoughts. He held up what appeared to be a bottle of red wine and a wine glass excitedly.  
>"Seriously?"<p>

"Sure, why not. I 'ant had good booze in yonks and I'm in the mood to get shit-faced drunk," Daryl defended, as if that was good reasoning. The blonde shrugged, a little can't hurt.

"Why only one glass? Aren't I allowed any?"

"This glass is for you, figured you'd wanna act refined or what not. I'll jus' take the bottle," he mocked. She shrugged again and held up the glass he passed her so he could fill it. _A bit_, _God damn,_ she cursed in her head as Daryl eagerly filled the container full with deep, red alcohol. She sipped it timidly while Daryl gulped whole mouthfuls. Finally Daryl stopped smiling, his rare happiness faltering. Beth supposed alcohol really was a depressant for him. She'd always wondered why alcohol was called a depressant drug when it always seemed to make drunk people ecstatic. She asked Maggie that question once to which her sister curtly replied, "well, you never saw Daddy in his drinking days."

After sipping half the glass, Beth began to feel woozy. She'd had alcohol once or twice at Thanksgiving but her daddy never let her have much, so her tolerance was dangerously low.

"What's up, girl? Can't handle yer drink?" Daryl taunted when he saw the fuddled expression the girl had. Daryl wouldn never admit it and Beth wasn't in a state to notice, but after being abstinent for so long, combined with barely eating for two days, the wine was taking its toll on him too after a few hefty gulps.

"Ya know, this feels like old times," Beth slurred only slightly, she wasn't _too_ drunk.

Ignoring her comment Daryl jested "The wine hasn' affected yer ability to never shut up then."

She ignored his comment as well, and now it seemed they were both having separate conversations. "Like, I miss this stuff. The simple stuff. Sure I do miss school, friends, electricity, a World without fear! But I also miss stupid things like stargazing, nail polish and lots and lots of pillows!" She giggled, throwing the cushion on her lap into the air and catching it.

"I know what you mean, I miss nail polish as well," Daryl quipped without missing a beat.

"You're such an ass," Beth sulked. Daryl was surprisingly hurt by her remark. "The thing is, we can still have the little things. We got pillows here, we could go out right now and stargaze if we wanted to and I bet there's nail polish-aplenty in this house, what with three girls living here," she justified.

Daryl appeared to be in deep thought for a few moments before he looked up nervously and almost squeaked out in a small voice, one Beth didn't recognise, "well, d'ya wanna?"

"Wanna what?"

"Stargaze..." Beth's face lit up and a small grin grew on her face, _bless him, he is trying._

"Sure."

...

The pair stumbled onto the grass outside, sloshing wine about as they tried to simultaneously drink and walk. Hilarity ensued, of course. They picked a nice spot by the porch, no walkers in sight and a great view of the night sky. Daryl half sat-half fell to the ground which induced even more amusement from both of them, and Beth sunk sloppily onto his legs by accident, prompting the biggest eruption of laughter of the night. Now her wine glass was empty, Beth was utterly inebriated, and Daryl, having downed the rest of the bottle, was suitably merry. Daryl read the wine label out loud, "17%? Good Lord this is strong for wine," Daryl drawled.

"Shhhhhhh!" Beth chided, dramatically exaggerating the noise. "You'll attract the walkers!" And for no apparent reason the pair once again fell into an episode of hysterics.

After ages passed, they fell silent. Choking out the occasional guffaw, they turned their attention to the stars at long last.

"Do you think that one day we'll find a nice house in the middle of nowhere, like the farm, but it'll be safe? In theory, we could dent the surrounding walker population eventually, like, their numbers have gotta go down after so long. And then we can build walls, make it even better. We could farm, eatin' home grown vegetables and squirrel for dinner, never going hungry! We could have venison on a good day," she added.

"Squirrel Day sounds like the best day," Daryl riposted. The woman just smiled crookedly to herself at his childish reply.

"And we could enjoy the little things again. Music and cooking in a real kitchen. Eatin' at a table and sitting on couches- sleepin' in comfy beds!" Her face brightened as she spoke, recalling happier times. "I just wanna have that chance to lay on the grass and not have a care in the world," she sighed.

"You think about this a lot, don' ya?" Daryl asked. She nodded in response. "Well, girl? Anythin' else you want?" He teased.

"Well yes, since you asked. I still wanna get married and have kids of my own. Always have, and the dead rising and eatin' the living never changed that." Daryl went quiet, _way to make it awkward, Beth._

"I guess I see your point, but none of that shit matters to me." Beth glowered at his cussing.

"So what's the point of it all then, what's the end goal?" She implored.

"To survive," was his simple answer. He raised his eyebrows smugly at her, but she wasn't convinced. Beth tore her eyes away from the tiny flickering lights in the sky and looked at the man to her right. She turned her whole body on its side so that she was facing him completely, and when he saw her move into this position he mimicked it, leaving very little space between themselves.

"To what end?" She queried. "What is the point in surviving if you can't _live_? That's no life! If there's nothing to look forward to, nothing to work towards then the hurt and the terror and the sacrifice is all for nothing." Daryl never took his eyes off her as she spoke. She reminded him of her daddy then, always the voice of reason, speaking the truth. He didn't believe her dream would ever come true, it was hopeless, but the reasoning behind it? _It makes perfect sense_, he admitted to himself. _And oh, God is she beautiful when she gets all passionate like that_. Whether it was the slight intoxication or not, Daryl would never understood what possessed him to think that. He looked away, his face slightly pink, as if he thought she could read his mind. He took a moment to compose himself before looking back at her pale, pretty face.

"We'll make it one day, Beth. We'll have horses on this farm, find some pigs maybe, and... and goats! It'll be jus' fine. And I'll let you lay on the grass as much as you want as long as you make me my squirrel pie, woman!" He mocked, in an emphasised southern accent. He was just humouring her; they'd never have that life, but this way she was happy. Beth giggled hard until drunken hiccups emerged through her shrieks of joy. Naturally, this made her laugh even harder. Both of them laughed. When they quieted, Daryl drifted his gaze back to the stars while Beth kept her focus very much on the hunter's face.

Feeling her eyes on him he slowly turned to face her, and without warning Beth's lips immediately found his. Her eyes closed, but Beth wasn't sure if this was due to passion or due to the fact she couldn't bear to see his shocked, and most likely disgusted expression as she kissed him. He was probably about to shove her away and scream in her face, and she didn't want to see the rejection as well as hear it. But he didn't do that at all. Daryl found himself embracing her, allowing her tongue to find its way into his mouth. He kissed her back, hesitantly at first and then with all the intensity of the World all at once. He explored her delicate mouth, and she responded by moving her fingers gently to his long hair, twisting and tugging ever so slightly at dirtied strands. They kissed with the heat and ferocity of the stars above them, hands sliding frantically over each other's bodies. Finally they parted. Beth broke away first, just to look at him, to drink in his rugged handsomeness. But this time apart seemed like an eternity to Daryl, giving him time to adjust- to see things clearly. _The hell am I doing? _Sudden realisation dawned on him, crashing into him head on. He removed one hand from Beth's waist and tugged the other, which was interlocked with her fingers, free. Not realising his change of heart, Beth went in for another taste of his rough lips.

"No. I'm... I'm sorry, Beth," he sputtered, before clambering swiftly to his feet and rushing back inside the house.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors note: Omg. I literally just wrote this, went on Tumblr and saw a new preview for next week's episode where Beth practically says something I wrote her saying in this chapter! I'm partly amazed and feeling kinda psychic, but partly mad that now it'll look like I copied that bit -_- Oh well, you know the truth!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: Mistakes

**A/N: Okay! So... I hadn't updated this story in forever which I'm sure caused annoyance to many of you and I'm sincerely sorry. I decided to stop writing it because I felt like it was becoming too much like season 4B and I didn't think many people were enjoying it. BUT, I changed my mind and decided that I'll continue with it, I'll make sure it's nothing like 4B, simple! So here's to bringing back this story, apologies to anyone who subscribed to this ages ago and can't even remember what happened. Go back and reread! Please review, it makes me so, so happy and just inspires me to update quicker! Thanks!**

* * *

><p>A violent rumble awakened Beth from her daze, snapping her out of her current confused and drunken state. It was her stomach that had made the rumble, but as the feeling worked its way up her throat she realised the rumble was not there to tell her she was hungry.<p>

She launched herself from the ground and attempted to run to the house but it was too late. Stopping by the porch steps, Beth vomited over a shrub, a futile attempt at concealing the contents of her weak stomach. As the wine and digestives reacquainted themselves with Beth, she found herself bent over the porch steps railing with equal measures tears and snot also falling from her face. Flashes of Daryl's horrified expression consumed her mind, making the tears fall harder, drowning her in her shame.

_What just happened?_ Aside from her raging teenage hormones, muddled emotions and sheer drunkenness, what made her kiss _Daryl Dixon_?

No, as if she needed another reason. _Alcohol_, she mused, _it_ _makes people do these things, it happens all the time_. That was the truth, that was an explanation. She was a mess, she had watched her father die, lost all of her family apart from this one man who kept her safe, and then she got drunk and did something she regretted. That was an excuse.

Finally, her stomach was empty, so she went to find her water bottle to rinse the acid from her mouth. Then she would confront Daryl, make it okay again.

* * *

><p>Daryl was laid face down on a bed, his brows knitted defiantly as they had been since he left Beth on the lawn outside. He was still drunk, but the shock of the kiss sobered him slightly. He hadn't been thinking rationally when it happened, hell, was he even thinking <em>at all<em>? But now he was crystal clear: that was a mistake, Beth is way too young, way too innocent and way too forbidden for Daryl Dixon; as for her, she was acting on alcohol-addled feelings only.

Daryl punched the pillow once, hard, muttering to himself _"stupid fucking fuck"_ in his anger. He'd definitely messed everything up, she's gonna hate him when she sobers up, she'll avoid him and it'll be awkward. _"Fuck it"_ he punched again, the sound disguising the slow opening of the bedroom door as Beth slipped inside, head down to conceal her crimson face.

"Daryl..." She started. Daryl almost fell off the bed as her sudden presence startled him.

"Fuck, knock next time, girl." Beth's patience grew weary at his cursing and use of the name "girl".

"Daryl, look. That was a big mistake and I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, I was just drunk, I'm still drunk for Christ's sake," she slurred. "I felt lost and alone and you were just there and you were nice to me. Alcohol makes people do crazy stuff, 'm sure you know that," she offered, with no idea how her dismissal of their moment hurt him, though he'd never admit it to even himself.

"Pffft," Daryl snorted. "Don't ya think I know that? Ya ain't my type, girl, it was a drunken accident and that's that," he spat, barely lifting his head from the pillow.

Beth was hurt. Tears sprung to her eyes as she pursed her lips, nodded and silently retreated, blinking back the evidence of her pain. She didn't have a crush on Daryl Dixon, in fact right now she hated him, but she had been cruelly rejected. _Ya ain't my type_? Wow, way to make a girl feel special, Dixon. _Daryl Dickhead_ more like, Beth thought to herself, a childish smile playing at her lips.

She found another bedroom, most likely "Jaycie's" room. It was reminiscent of her own old bedroom, pink and white with lots of books, pretty cushions and musician posters, although Jaycie appeared to have been quite the boy-band fan whilst Beth was partial to country and old rock. After an eternity of tossing and turning, the events of the past two days finally caught up with Beth and she fell into a deep slumber, comfortable in a proper bed for the first time since she slept in her own.

* * *

><p>Beth jolted awake, confused at first as to where she was. A loud slam of the front door told her Daryl Dixon was in a foul mood yet again. She rolled her eyes and rolled over in bed. Beth hadn't experienced comfort like this in forever and she was far overdue for a lie-in. Settling into a heaven of feather pillows and crisp cotton sheets, Beth let out a small sigh and smiled to herself. This was one of those small luxuries that made life feel worth it.<p>

Just as she began drifting off again she heard a voice booming from downstairs, "BETH! GET UP, SHIT TA' DO!"

Beth closed her eyes tighter defiantly, as he shouted again she covered her ears with her pillow. She felt like a 16 year old again, her momma yelling at her to get out of bed after she'd stayed up to the early hours of the morning texting Jimmy. She silently wished that was still the reason she was so tired. In reality, Beth was exhausted because she had spent the previous day running so far away from the people who assassinated her father, away from flesh eating creatures. She was exhausted physically and emotionally, how much can one person endure? Her daddy, momma, brother, two boyfriends all dead, and now her sister and surrogate family were either dead or so far away from her she might never find them. Apart from Daryl Dixon. She made a promise, as tears rolled down her cheeks, that as much as he angers her, nothing would break them apart.

A moment later Daryl crashed into the room, the door banging loudly into the wall. Startled, Beth shot up in bed, pink in the face with the embarrassment of Daryl finding her laid in bed. He looked as though he was about to scream at her, but as he clocked the tear stains on her cheeks and puffy eyes, his face softened.

"I'm-I'm- sorry, sorry…" He mumbled, shifting his gaze to the floor. It was now Daryl's turn to be embarrassed, as he now realised how inappropriately he had acted.  
>"It's jus', we need ta make this place safe. There's a few walkers outside an' I wanna make sure it don't turn into a repeat of the farm."<p>

Nodding, Beth swallowed hard and wiped her tears. "'Am coming."

"Er, am sorry, take as long as ya need," was his sheepish reply.

He quickly retreated and seconds later Beth heard him jump down the steps and slam the front door once again. It was gonna be a long day.

* * *

><p>"Daryl! DARYL!"<p>

"SHIT, Beth! WHAT'S WRONG?!"

Daryl hurtled himself down the basement stairs, knife at the ready. He heard a giggle escape Beth close by him but it was too dark to make her out. Recognising that she wasn't in trouble he let out a sigh, his breath wavering from the adrenaline.

"Fuck, Beth. Don't scream like that, thought a walker had gotten ya or somethin'!"

"Sorry, I think this is a generator, take a look." She lit a match and waved the soft glow over a small, red machine. Daryl stepped forward and pushed a green button he presumed was the on switch. The generator coughed and spluttered, a light bulb flicked on briefly until the machine died again.

"It just needs a bit of gas or somethin', right? I bet you can get it working!" Beth sounded hopeful.

"Fuck, I ain't no handyman," Daryl snorted.

She shot him a look in retaliation to his cursing. "You were always fixing up ya motorbike and stuff…" Beth reasoned.

"Yeah only 'cause I had to learn that from owning them, my family never had no fancy-ass gas generator like this," Daryl retorted.

Beth just glared at him in response, her eyes silently pleading with him to just try. Huffing, Daryl grasped a match from Beth and held it to the generator. After a few moments of studying the machine, lifting off various parts and pushing different buttons he pulled out a small black motor.

"Motor looks burnt out, this thing's kaput."

Beth sighed dejectedly as she walked to the stairs. All she had hoped for was the chance to use some electricity. Maybe they could have watched a movie or something, pretended life was normal just for one night.

"Doesn't matter," she smiled sadly as she pulled herself up the steps, leaving Daryl in the dark when his match burnt out.

Turning, he threw the dead match on the floor and went to follow her. When he reached the stairs a scream suddenly pierced the silence and it took Daryl a split second to jump into action. That was Beth's scream. She was in trouble.

* * *

><p><strong>Uh-oh! Stay tuned folks ;)<strong>


	6. Chapter 6: Intruders

**Author's Note: Hi! So I know I'm slow at writing but this one is a decent length so I hope this will put you on until I get the next chapter out, I'll go quick I swear! Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all who have been reviewing, following and favouriting and please keep on doing it! Here we go!**

* * *

><p>The next few moments passed by in slow motion. Daryl's heart leapt out of his chest as the sound of Beth's shrill cry stopped him in his tracks.<br>"BETH!" He yelled, his head too foggy with fear to realise it was such a mistake to be so loud. He jumped two steps at a time to get to the top of the stairs but as he reached the open basement door he was greeted by a punch to the face that knocked him flying back down the stairs. He tumbled into a bag of coal at the bottom, a cloud of soot rising from the impact and settling on his motionless frame. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a giant ape of a man staring down at him from the hallway.  
>"Your bitch is ours now," the man spat, and as much as Daryl fought to stay awake, to move so he could save Beth, unconsciousness eventually won out.<p>

* * *

><p>"Please… P-please…" She whimpered, blood dripping from her lip where a tattooed man with blonde hair had hit her. Beth was on the floor, her hands bound together and a gag loosely hanging around her neck. She figured the only reason they had taken it out of her mouth was because they found pleasure in listening to her desperate pleas, but she still couldn't stop her begging.<p>

"Alright, honey. Enough of that now, even though it does turn me on," he grinned slimily, much to the amusement of his friends. Beth threw him a look of utter disgust.

"Now, now, don't be like that darlin'." His accent was Georgian, deep and slurred with sinister undertones that made Beth's hair stand on end.  
>"So, your friend is dead, Ronnie saw to that," he said lightly, as if Beth's World wasn't crashing in on her. At the word "dead" her eyes bulged out of their sockets. She imagined Daryl laid murdered in the basement, his body cold and alone and she only hoped Ronnie had the sense to stop her friend from turning because that is one thing Daryl Dixon does not deserve. Tears trickled from her vacant eyes as she thought, disregarding the sneers from the five men that surrounded her. Right now she didn't care what happened to her, she just wanted Daryl.<p>

"Well what's wrong, honey? Was he your little boyfriend or somethin'?" The leader jeered. She ignored him, resulting in a white hot slap to the face.

"Don't ignore me, bitch." The pain was almost so sharp it didn't feel like much at all, her emotional exhaustion so unbearable her psychical aches were incomparable. When she still refused to meet eyes with the bastard, he became livid.

"That's it, you got it coming to you, whore." The man lunged at her, grabbing at her throat, but as he did, with all her strength Beth kicked her leg up and hit him straight in the crotch. He fell to the floor squealing and she felt pride swell out of her as she watched the man writhing in pain. The other four men put their guns on her, wiping the smirk from Beth's face. As they stared at her, the cries of the ring leader filling the silence, she slowly started moving her wrists, testing her shackles. After a few moments of slowly pulling at her binds so that the men wouldn't notice, she noticed they weren't as tight as they ought to be. She saw a window of opportunity when she realised how weak the cloth that held her hand together was. She gently reached for the knife that was stuffed down her jeans with her restricted hands, they been careless when they caught her and didn't even search her for weapons. The men stood waiting for their leader to regain composure, and when he could speak again he muttered through breaths, "move the bitch to the couch, we'll have fun with her and then throw her to the eaters."

A skinny, sour-faced guy moved to pick her up, leaning in close to sniff her hair as he did so. She took her chance and pulled with all the force she had on her restraints, ripping the cloth, sending the knife straight into the stomach of the man. Blood poured out of his mouth and onto Beth's lap before anyone else could realise what had happened.

When the man slumped onto the floor by Beth's side, spluttering and gasping in pain, he revealed his blood-soaked shirt to the other men. They sprung into action, yelling at Beth, drawing their guns while one held a knife to her throat as another kicked her in the stomach.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH, WHAT THE FUCK," screamed a muscled man, his gun shaking in his hands. As the man with the knife to Beth's throat was just about to make his incision, she closed her eyes tight so that her last sight wouldn't have to be his crazy eyes. As she closed them she anticipated her gory death, surprised when she instead heard a squeal emitted from another man in front of her. Snapping open her eyes she saw a familiar face wielding a katana and viciously chopping through the four remaining men before they had time to process the events.

"Michonne!" Beth breathed, the first genuine smile graced her lips since as long as she could remember. Michonne leapt to her side when the four men were dead, examining her bruised face and embracing her as tears fell from both the women.

When she pulled away from Beth she realised the girl wasn't smiling anymore.  
>"What's wrong, Beth? What did they do to you?" The older woman asked, her tone soft, laced with sympathy and fear. Beth shook her head and squeezed her eyes tight in an effort to stop her tears, yet it only resulted in pushing out more of the salty droplets.<p>

"Daryl," she breathed. "They said he was dead but I-I don't know, maybe they were just trying to scare me."

"Where is he?" Michonne jumped to stand up.

"Basement." Beth joined her on unsteady feet, wobbling slightly. Michonne wrapped an arm around Beth to steady her and they both walked as quickly as Beth's ailments would allow to Daryl.

* * *

><p>When they found him, lying in a tangle of his own limbs on the cold, stone floor, Daryl appeared lifeless.<p>

"Is he dead?" Beth asked through gritted teeth as Michonne checked his pulse. Michonne was silent, feeling hard for a sign of life. Eventually she found it. She nodded to Beth with a teary smile.

"He's out cold though, and he'll be in a lot of pain when he wakes up. Looks like he was pushed down the stairs so no doubt he's broken a bone or two."

The women gathered all their strength and managed to half lift-half drag Daryl's limp body up the stairs, being as careful as possible to not injure him even more. Settling him on the sofa amongst pillows and covers, the women gently observed the redneck's injuries. Michonne had little to no medical knowledge and Beth had only harboured hers from her father's veterinary practicing, which she had assisted him on from time to time. Beth figured broken bones were the same from animal to human and began inspecting Daryl's arms for breakage.

"His left arm. Here. It's swollen awful, probably broken, I think. I'll only know for sure when he wakes up, see how much it hurts him," Beth bunched her mouth to the side, glancing at Michonne to search for an agreement that she hoped would ease the pressure on herself and place the fate of Daryl and his limbs upon the both of them rather than her alone. Michonne merely nodded and offered a small smile as reassurance.

"If only my daddy were here, he'd know what to do," Beth whispered, Michonne barely caught it, but as she did visions of Hershel's mutilated body flashed across her eyes and a sense of guilt hung like a lead weight in her stomach. The image punched her straight in the gut, making her sink down into a nearby chair. She still cursed herself for not killing The Governor when she had the chance, not when it was too late on the battlefield their home had become. She wished she had ignored Andrea's naive plea and stabbed the pathetic bastard dead. Her mind then wandered to Andrea and how she missed her best friend; both she and Hershel would still be here if she'd killed The Governor, and for that she would never forgive herself.

She was snatched from her thoughts as Daryl stirred, his black and blue body shifting stiffly on the brown leather couch. His sweaty skin stuck to the material somewhat resulting in a slight squeak as he shuffled. Beth's eyes lit up as he woke, and Daryl's first thought was of how beautiful the crystalline blue of her iris was.

He quickly shot down that thought. Suddenly all the pain in his body hit him at once as he came to his senses, a breathy gasp slipping from his mouth. It felt as though he'd been run down and then reversed back over, but Daryl was so scared of revealing weakness that he shrugged it off as nothing.

"'m fine," he whispered, his voice wavering as waves of pain coursed through his arm. Beth smiled at his stubbornness.  
>"Ya not fine, Daryl. What happened? Can you move your arm?"<p>

He twitched his arm limply and scrunched his face when it throbbed.  
>"Nah," he shook his head. Focusing on Beth properly now he noticed the red mark decorating her face and trickles of scarlet blood from her lip, and his brows furrowed with worry.<p>

"Beth, you're bleeding! What did the fuckers do to you?" His tone was laced with anger, a rage building inside him.  
>"Not much. I killed one guy… Then Michonne just appeared, she saved me," Beth smiled and turned her gaze to the older woman sat in a leather armchair out of Daryl's peripheral vision. He looked at Beth like she was crazy, his mouth forming a confused "what" as Michonne interjected.<p>

"Hey, stranger," she smirked when Daryl jumped in surprise, but the smirk was replaced with a guilty frown when he tensed with pain. She moved to stand in front of him and he looked her up and down as though she was a mirage he couldn't believe was real.

"Jesus, you're a sight for sore eyes," he grinned and the pair shared a slight chuckle, a strong sense tension and sadness tainting the air.

"Daryl, I think your arm is broken." He sighed and winced as Beth gave her amateur medical verdict, painfully aware of how useless his injury would make him. "I'll make you a splint and a sling and you'll have to stay rested until it heals," Beth continued, feeling quite proud as she heard a different, authoritative voice leave her own mouth.

"I ain't sitting 'round doin' nothin' all day. What if more of them pricks find this place, what about Walkers? Can hardly defend us with my arm in a sling," he muttered. Michonne raised a brow at the man laid out before her, her hand finding its place on her hip, her new stance practically oozing attitude.

"What, can't you trust us ladies to keep us all safe?" A smirk void of humour decorating her face. Daryl swatted at her in reply, admitting defeat when his body yelped at the movement.

"Doctor's orders, Daryl," Beth grinned as she headed upstairs.

* * *

><p>Between the three females who once owned the house, there were drawers and drawers filled with suitable scarves to use as a sling. Beth found herself admiring a few particularly pretty garments, a black sequinned scarf with flecks of iridescent fabric weaved throughout was her favourite and she paraded in front of a huge mirror in the mother's room with it draped around her neck. She found a beautiful, silk, black dress in Jaycie's room to accompany it, along with a pair of black heels embellished with sequins across the straps. She had never worn anything quite so sexy, and she would never had said the outfit was to her taste. But as she admired the way the dress clung to her slight curves and subtly accentuated her bosom, she decided she quite liked this elegant, adult style of clothing.<p>

She decided she wasn't prepared to unveil her sexy dress to Daryl and Michonne and instead opted for a sensible but cute, silk tank and black skinnies. She was delighted to find that Jaycie was of similar age, dress size and shoe size to her and so she even found a pair of heavily worn Doc Martens to complete the look. She contemplated bringing Daryl a pink or rainbow coloured scarf as a sort of joke to make the tough redneck look funny, but she remembered Daryl didn't take kindly to being laughed at and chose a plain cream one that looked as much like a normal sling as possible. She snapped a thick, long ruler she found in Sophie's room and rounded the edge off with masking tape to use as a splint. Realising she still had dried blood on her chin, she quickly washed her face, revealing a clean, tanned face now tarnished by bruises.

* * *

><p>Michonne was preparing a meal of alphabetti spaghetti and nacho chips for dinner and Daryl was sulking on the couch. Beth approached silently, noticing how out of place he looked in the middle class house reminiscent of her old farm home. She noticed the streaks of dirt that he wore like war paint and she longed to just get him in a bath and see for possibly the first time what Daryl looks like clean. Images of Daryl wet and naked intruded her mind accidentally, and she had to shake them out as violently as they had arrived.<p>

"I… Erm," she faltered as she juggled speaking to the real life Daryl and dispelling the fantasy one in her head. _Try again, Beth,_ she told herself sternly.  
>"Come here, let me sling up ya' arm."<p>

Tentatively, she took his hand and slowly helped him straighten his arm. She observed how his teeth gritted together tightly, but how adamantly he refused to voice his pain. His pertinaciousness made her smile. She also noticed how he stole glances at her as she taped the splint around his arm.

"Damn this is gonna sting when you have to rip that tape off again," Daryl joked, his mood lightening slightly as he looked at her. He wasn't sure why he couldn't stop gawping, all he knew was there was something different in her as she took control, looking after him for a change. As much as he hated to admit it, this was a welcomed role reversal for the moment, but he knew he'd despise this going on for weeks. The previous night's events had left Daryl self loathing; he knew he didn't like Beth in _that way_, but he couldn't stop thinking about the way her hands had gripped him when they kissed, how her tongue somehow tasted of honey when it should taste like she hadn't properly cleaned her teeth in a while. He couldn't fathom why that kiss was plaguing him so badly, leaving him feeling not guilty, as he'd expect, but _longing for more_.

He stamped that thought down to the murky depths of his mind as Beth's voice brought him back down to Earth.  
>"That's done then. Be careful, don't exert yourself, and Daryl?" He still wasn't concentrating entirely but her intonation told him she was asking a question. His eyes snapped up from her lips to her eyes, and eyebrow raised in lieu of a vocal reply.<br>"Don't do anything stupid," the young blonde smirked, and he couldn't shake the feeling that her warning held a hidden meaning.

"Dinner is served." Michonne broke the tension between the pair and they all sat down for an uninspiring meal. For the first time in what felt like forever, the three of them were able to share jokes and laugh, ignoring the topic of the prison battle as nobody felt the harrowing subject was necessary right now. They were together, they had survived today's events and they appeared to be reasonably safe.

"So how did you know we were here, Michonne?" Beth asked.  
>"Daryl ain't the only one who can track ya know," the older woman grinned, Beth found her presence uplifting and her laugh infectious when she was in a good mood, though she could never forget how utterly terrifying the sword-wielding woman could be. "Nah, I saw you both running. I think you and I were the last to scatter and I followed your general direction for a while but you were too far ahead. Had to use what I'd learnt from Daryl to find this place," she winked at Daryl as she uttered the last part and he smiled uneasily. He was distinctly quiet as all his concentration was on trying to scoop up his food with only one hand and one that was badly bruised at that.<p>

"Your timing was impeccable, Michonne. I haven't thanked you yet for saving my life," Beth smiled with half her mouth, her expression sad but she meant every word of gratitude. Michonne closed her eyes lightly and pursed her lips as she nodded in response, her voiceless reply leaving the air silent and uncomfortable. Michonne broke it once again.

"There's something else. I found something on my way here, but I knew I was so close to you guys that I left it for the moment. I don't know if that was right but I didn't know what to do…" Daryl and Beth awaited the end of that sentence sat on the edge of their seats, her solemn tone keeping them from asking her to go on for fear of hearing something they'd rather not. She pressed on regardless.

"Carl's hat. I found it in the woods, barely a speck on it which made me think he hadn't lost it very long ago. There was no sign of him or anyone else except the footprints in the mud, his and someone else. I assumed Rick's. I don't know what when down, but I know they got away, that he lost his hat but that was the worst of it," she said finitely, no question of doubt in her voice. Beth was on the verge of tears at the prospect of her friend's survival, she too was certain that they were alive, always full of hope as she was. Daryl held back the swell of happiness from Michonne's news, unconvinced and cynical.

"How do you know they're alive?" He grunted.  
><em>"Because it's Rick."<em>

Daryl nodded, he understood fully now, of course it's Rick, the toughest motherfucker he knew.

Michonne finally noticed how Daryl was struggling with his food and in an attempt to ease the mood she giggled, taking his already discarded fork from his lap, scooping a blob of spaghetti letters and lifting it to his mouth. He stared at her, blinking rapidly with anxiousness.

"No way."  
>"You better open up or I'll be forced to deploy the aeroplane," she laughed, her humour eliciting a chuckle from Daryl as he gave in to her, shamefully wishing it was the sky-eyed blonde beside him feeding him instead.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: As always, please review as your little comments are the reason I carry on writing, and the more you leave me, the faster I'll write! Also feel free to leave any criticism, and I'll take kindly to hearing which parts worked best and your favourite bits, they help me improve the story. Thank you!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7: Goodbye For Now

**authors note: Okay so this is a pretty short-ish chapter, just to keep you on I suppose! Thanks again to everyone reviewing and following! Keep 'em coming, I live for your feedback! (Bit of an exaggeration but still) Enjoy! **

* * *

><p>Beth tossed and turned, fighting desperately to grasp the sleep that evaded her like a torturous game of hide and seek. The day's events were replaying over and over in the broken video player of her mind, some parts playing in slow motion: the part where she killed a living human for the first time, the part where she thought her only friend left in the World had died, the part where five brutal men threatened her with rape. Salted tears cascaded down her face as she recalled her terror and her pain, and even now as she wiped meekly at the wetness on her cheeks she winced in pain as her fingers brushed over her bruises.<p>

Those events kept playing on her mind, looping like a never ending record. Getting faster, double speed now as she told herself: a man like that was no human being anyway, her only friend has been joined by another and they are very much alive, and the threats were only threats because Michonne saved her. She tried hard to focus on the positive, the good of this life and the benevolence of God, just like her daddy would. But the 'what ifs' and 'almosts' that could have changed the outcome of her day drastically weighed heavy, resulting in a lost and confused Beth that could think of nothing to help except crying. "I don't cry anymore," she heard her own voice chide her and she answered herself with a knowing, humourless smirk. The truth being that Beth had cried herself to sleep the night Zach died, and the countless nights that followed. Her conscience started screaming at her though the voice in her head became no louder. "You're weak, all you do is cry, weak, weak," it yelled and Beth's shoulders shook, her slight body convulsing as her jaw absentmindedly opened as if she were to shout back but only air shaped like a scream came out.

A while passed and she eventually managed to calm herself down to a tranquil state, her eyes glassy as her mind wandered so far it was not with her at all. The skin of her cheeks and under her eyes was made taut by dried tears, her eardrums caressed by the soft purr of her breath. The whoosh of a strong gust of wind tearing through the chimney disturbed her lack of thoughts, dragging her back into her body. Frowning as she realised she was still awake, she opted for a different approach.

* * *

><p>She focused her mind on daydreams, a tactic that she often used to shift her thoughts to a happier place so that she could slip into peaceful slumber. She imagined the life she had discussed with Daryl, her dream of safety and normality, to an extent. She pictured a house similar to this one, a secluded farm with fences, not a walker in sight. People started coming into view now, she saw her family. She saw Maggie and Glenn outside exercising the horses, Carol was playing with Lizzie and Mica on the grass and Daryl was tuning up his motorbike by the porch. She imagined herself, wearing pretty clothes that had never seen the stains of blood, nail polish on her fingers and makeup on her face. She was bouncing Judith on her knee whilst Rick and Carl sat around chatting to her. The rest of the family sat about their home happy as can be, eating decent food and drinking fresh, cool water. There was something missing though. Beth couldn't shake that feeling until she finally realised she'd not yet created her imaginary lover. Her mind flashed back to when she drunkenly told Daryl she still wanted to get married, her cheeks flushing at the memory. As she fantasised she now saw a man walking toward her, but she was dismayed to see that his face was a blur. Beth literally could not put a face to her man as she simply didn't know who he might be, and every attempt to create him a body was futile as she realised she hadn't a clue what she wanted. She drifted off to sleep whilst talking to her mystery man, simultaneously pondering if she would ever find him.<p>

* * *

><p>A side-splitting pain pulsed through his arm as Daryl stirred. He gasped aloud but subsequently stifled the sound as he heard someone gently knock on his bedroom door.<p>

"What?" He groaned, unaware that Michonne stood behind it, rolling her eyes at his irritability. She entered.

"I'm going to look for Rick," she stated simply.

"No," he replied after a pause, his facade betrayed by the panic in his voice. Michonne's eyes widened, her brows knitted together.

"Why the hell not?" Was her sassy reply. Daryl was at a loss, terrified of explaining how hurt he would feel if he lost his friend again.

"I just... It's not a good idea going out there on ya own. Ya don't know where the hell they are!" He stuttered. Michonne had a talent for seeing through people as if they were a sheet of glass, and though he liked to think he was opaque and immune to her perception, he was wrong. Her frown softened as she realised he was just worried for her.

"Daryl, look. I'm a big girl," she grinned. "I had a good lead on them. I'll find them and I'll bring them back and maybe we can be a bit happier. The more of us we reunite, the better it will be!"

Daryl anxiously chewed his lip. He desperately wanted to find Rick and Carl, but the pessimist inside him worried that he might lose Michonne along with them.

"You ain't no tracker," was his childish retort, "let me come too."

"Now you're just being silly, with an arm like that?"

"Then wait until I'm fixed up!"

"They could be half way outta Georgia by then!"

* * *

><p>The steady crescendo of voices roused Beth, who came plodding into the room to hush the pair.<p>

"Guys? Guys! Enough! What's going on?" The dazed blonde yawned dreamily.

"I'm gonna go after Rick and Carl," Michonne reiterated.

"Yes!" In that moment Beth appeared almost embarrassed over her apparent excitement. "I mean, it's a good idea. We can't just leave them. I can go with you!"

"You gotta look after Mr Grumpy here, he can't defend himself with that arm," the older woman gestured with an eyebrow to Daryl. The nickname "Mr Grumpy" elicited a giggle from Beth and a growl from Daryl. Imagining herself as Daryl's carer for a change was a fascinating concept to Beth; they caught eyes as she fantasised and they both quickly averted their gaze to the floor.

"I'll be okay on my own," Michonne clocked the question hidden in Daryl's furrowed eyebrows and retorted, "honey, have you seen me with this thing?" She smiled, gripping the katana that was strapped to her back. The redneck rolled his eyes.

For the first time since he was young, since he was at the mercy of his father's fists, he felt helpless. Granted, a different kind of helpless, but nonetheless it was an unwelcome feeling. He hated having to stay at home whilst Michonne did the tracking, he despised being unable to protect, because that was the meaning for his life in this new World. Without it, he was just Daryl the redneck that never did anything good for nobody.

His silence indicated submission and Michonne said her goodbyes.

"Daryl," she moved to where he was resting on his good elbow in bed, "I promise I'll come back, I'll bring them with me. If something goes wrong with this place, meet me here." She seemingly conjured a map and pointed to a position, Daryl was constantly surprised by the woman's resourcefulness. "And Daryl, don't give Beth too hard of a time," she winked at Beth who blushed almost as red as Daryl's equally crimson face.

The two women hugged, whispered goodbyes and parted, leaving Daryl and Beth alone once more as Michonne left in search of more of their family.


	8. Chapter 8: Hunting

**Author's Note: Okay so... After the MSF I felt so broken that I didn't want to continue this. I've since seen how many people are saying how sad it is that authors are giving up after the MSF and they wish they weren't so, I'm gonna pick it up again because I agree, we shouldn't have to stop. I also believe in #TeamDelusional if my readers know what this is, I suggest you delve into all the theories if you don't but yeah, I support that. I know this is short but I just wanted to give you something to let you know it was gonna continue. **

**Also, someone asked a question about the last chapter:_"It said that Daryl knew that he didn't like Beth in that way… So does that mean (in this story) he only likes her in a sexual-ish way?"_ Okay the answer is no, not at all. Basically what I mean by this, and all the reassuring Daryl does to tell himself "I do not like Beth" is him fooling himself. Plus, he's gonna be very confused by his feelings right? It's not sexual, well, it's not just sexual, he will like her for her not just for sex ;)**

* * *

><p>"What do you want for breakfast?" Beth asked, as though there was a menu of various continental choices laid out before them.<br>"What is there?" Daryl replied impatiently.  
>"Well… There's the choice of out of date peas or… Out of date peas."<br>"Jeez, guess it'll have to be the out of date peas," Daryl replied, humour teasing his voice for the first time since Michonne left.  
>"Good choice," Beth winked as she set to work on opening the can.<p>

Two days had been and gone since Michonne departed, and spirits had been low in the house as they feared the worst. Awkwardness ensued between Beth and Daryl as neither one of them could shake the memories of that kiss barely days before. Beth had been waiting on Daryl hand and foot, his injuries disallowing him from doing most things, so she had to cook, kill the walkers that wandered nearby, tend to Daryl's arm- all with a badly bruised stomach that throbbed every time she moved.

"Breakfast is ready! Well, this might end up being breakfast, lunch and dinner actually. We've got nothing left." Beth setup a TV dinner stand in front of Daryl's knees and helped him sit up on the couch so he could eat.  
>"If this dumb arm would hurry up and heal then I could go huntin'," Daryl mumbled, his inadequacies had haunted him ever since he broke his arm, he felt so useless.<br>"What if I went huntin'?" Beth piped up in a small voice, anticipating Daryl's mocking reply. Here it came.  
>"You? Ya don't know how to, don't make me laugh, girl," he sniggered.<br>Beth's pulse quickened as anger surged through her, his condescension slapping her hard across the face.  
>"Don't be an asshole. You can't do it, you can do fuck all right now! Either I do it, or we starve," she hissed, hating every part of Daryl Dickhead yet again.<br>"Fine, go, see how far you get," he growled back at her as she stormed through the front door, accentuating her footsteps with heavy bangs on the oak floor.

"It can't be that hard. Killed walkers, killed people, what's killin' a little squirrel?" Beth muttered aloud to herself, anger inciting every bone in her body. She could deal with being insulted on her looks, or her passions, or her personality even, but if someone called Beth Greene out on her ability? She wasn't useless, she wasn't just a babysitter, she could do this. She could survive, because she had already, when they didn't know if anyone else had.  
>"I can do this," she reassured herself, straightening down her top, pulling up her socks and setting off determinedly to the forest a half mile from the house.<p>

When she reached the tree line, she was suddenly made painfully aware that she wasn't sure where to start, or how to. Come on, I've seen him do this dozens of times. She wracked her brain for the "rules of hunting" as Daryl had once described them. 1) Be quiet. She remembered her first rule and so immediately became exaggeratedly silent, moving at a snails pace to reduce the noise of her footsteps crunching over leaves. 2) Weapon at the ready. She held up her gun and clicked off the safety. She regretted not having the crossbow but that was something else she didn't know how to use. Rule number three. What's rule number three? She was lost for the third step already and hopelessness consumed her. She didn't know if there were special places to seek out certain animals, or if she waited for them to cross her path; all she knew was she could not come back empty handed and prove Daryl Dixon right, that was an impossibility.

She stalked around the trees for a while searching for an animal to come her way, but the forest appeared barren. It was completely empty, seemingly. She saw only one walker, a limbless torso which had brambles grown on and around it, claiming it as a part of the forest for eternity. That was until Beth kindly put it down, whispering a heartfelt "I'm sorry this happened to you" as she did so. She wandered aimlessly through the foliage for what felt like hours, until she was stopped in her tracks by a loud grunting nearby. She held her breath and listened out for the creature. It didn't sound like a walker, they gnarled and moaned and growled. This was the grunt of something dying, something breathing its last breaths.

She followed the sound to a clearing, and in the middle laid a small deer, its entire body heaving up and down as it died. Beth scanned the area for walkers, found there were none and approached the animal. It was a baby. Her eyes prickled with tears as she stroked the deer's soft neck, soothing it with coos and shushes. As Beth noticed the arrow sticking out of its side, she immediately felt her stomach lurch and scanned the trees for a sign of Daryl. Had he followed her out here and beat her to it to prove a point? She couldn't see him anywhere, and besides, his arrows didn't look like that she reasoned. That thought made her stomach drop even further, it meant there was somebody else out there instead. The deer's grunts masked the sound of the perpetrator stepping closer to Beth, approaching her from behind as she fawned over the baby animal. Two steps behind her. Crunch. She heard a twig snap close to her and twisted around in the blink of an eye. Her breathing hitched, her heart stopped and her shaky hands held her gun up high.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear. I just wanna ask you something," the stranger began, their voice the epitome of calm whilst Beth sweated and shivered simultaneously in fright.

* * *

><p>Please review! :)<p> 


	9. Chapter 9: Silly Girl

**Author's Note: Okay hey! As usual I'm sorry I'm so slow -_- You'll be pleased to know I'm already half way through the next chapter so that shouldn't take so long to get up. Anyway, enjoy! And keep reviewing, the reviews make my day :)**

* * *

><p>"W-what do you want?" Beth stammered, edging back inch by inch. Her gun remained high despite the stranger's pleas to lower it, her hands trembling as she dared him to come any closer.<p>

"I have a camp; it's safe, we have food, we have walls, we have community," the man whispered, his hands in the air to signal surrender.  
>"I'm sorry I snuck up on you, I jus' wanted to see you before you saw me, y'know?" It made sense, she could be as dangerous to him as he could to her, but Beth wasn't taking any risks, her gun stayed fixated on his head.<br>"Please, lower your weapon an' we can chat about it, y'know?" He smiled for the first time, and Beth noticed he had a kind face. Looks can be deceiving, she told herself. He had messy blonde hair and an unusually white grin, Beth might have thought he was quite handsome had she not been preoccupied with her internal terror. She noticed he was clad head to toe in riot gear, gear that she recognised.

"Where did you get that armour?" Beth squeaked, eyeing him wearily.  
>"We moved into our camp and it was already there. We've got weapons and food, we're just working on making it secure again and then-"<br>"So you haven't built it yourself? What do you mean again?" Beth interrogated, her suspicions growing as her stomach dropped lower with every question.  
>"What, no we didn't. It got busted up pretty bad- look, I'm saying too much here you will have to come-"<br>"Is it a prison? It got busted up because you did it, didn't you? You attacked it. Is it the prison?!" She shrieked, her throat catching as she realised she was most likely in the presence of their attackers, of the people who killed her daddy.  
>"Listen, girl. I don't know what you're talking about, I think you need to calm down," the man reasoned, his hands outstretched as he moved towards her.<br>"Don't tell me to calm down and I swear to God DON'T MOVE ANY CLOSER!"

The man flinched as Beth's voice raised, his hands moved from in front of him to above his head in surrender, all the while her gun never swayed from its position opposite his chest. Beth heard her name being called from behind her and spun around to find Daryl pushing through the trees, his good arm holding his crossbow directly at the stranger. Before she could register the situation she found herself strapped against the chest of the man, his arms tightened around her chest and a knife drawn in front of her neck.  
>"I swear, man. Try anything and I'll kill her," panic ladened the man's voice. The hand that held the blade shook violently, doing nothing to quell the nerves of Beth whose heart thudded in her ears.<br>"Daryl put it down, we were jus' talking, just talking," she stuttered, her lips twisted into a tight faux smile.  
>Reluctantly, Daryl lowered the crossbow and the stranger released Beth from his grip. The three of them stared each other down before the stranger whistled a short, tuneful call.<br>"What the fuck was tha—" Daryl started, abruptly finishing mid sentence as he observed five men step into the clearing from five different direction, guns raised straight for Daryl and Beth.  
>"There was two of you and one of me. You must understand?" The original man reasoned, stepping behind another man as he motioned for them to take Beth and Daryl.<br>"We're sorry, please! We don't have anything you want!" Beth pleaded as one man clenched her hands behind her back. Daryl was less than cooperative.  
>"Ger' your hands off of me you son of a bitch!" He spat, to which his captor responded by knocking him out with the butt of his rifle. Beth shrieked as she saw Daryl's limp body be dragged away in front of her, all the way to a nearby field with green SUV parked by a tree. The men bundled them into the vehicle and set off, accelerating with urgency over the grass towards the road.<p>

* * *

><p>Daryl sank in and out of consciousness as he lay splayed across the backseat and Beth's knees. One man drove manically as the original stranger stared Beth down, gun in hand, watching her awkward yet rhythmic strokes through Daryl's hair. She pretended at first to be unaware of the man's prying eyes, leaning close to Daryl and whispering comforting words to him in a vain effort to help him stay awake. After several minutes of the man's unending gaze she addressed him:<br>"Why was this necessary? What do you want from us?"  
>"Honestly? This wasn't my intention. We come out here to rescue people, calmly. I'd have take you back to our camp where you could be safe. But you're friend is a little hostile, and I'm sure you've come across bad people since shit went down, the World is full of them now. We have to be vigilant, in case you're bad people, I had back up waiting and when you don't comply, like good people should, we can't let you leave."<br>"We are good people." Beth replies sternly, the fury in her eyes detracting from her statement.  
>"Would a bad person admit they were bad?" The man was eerily calm as he spoke, his voice like a gentle breeze in a World of raging storms.<br>"We are good people. What will you do with us now?"  
>"Well, we're taking you to our camp. And you were right by the way, it is a prison. You know it?" Beth's eyes lit up like wildfire, her nostrils flared as the realisation that these people killed her father deluged her mind.<br>"Yeah you do. I'll be honest now, I knew you did. See I recognise you, and your boyfriend. See your boyfriend killed my friend Mitch, amongst other people, and I'm pretty sure you killed my friend Johnson. Your family killed a lot of my friends, and that's not okay."  
>"YOU KILLED MY DAD! You destroyed my home and tore my family apart! I've lost everything because of you people, just because you couldn't find your own home, because you didn't want to have to share! This is what this is, yeah? You're hunting us down because somehow you think we're the bad people? Who are you to judge who we are? You're the bad people, you're the bad ones!" Beth yelled so loudly, venom spiking every syllable as they spilled from her mouth whilst the man just stared, and Daryl stirred, sitting up slowly to see the image of Beth drowning in her own tears. Finally the man's stoic expression eased into a smirk, a cruel twist of his lips as he spat his words:<p>

"Oh silly girl, I never said we weren't."


	10. Chapter 10: My Fault

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Shit is getting intense! I hope you enjoy. Btw if any of my lovely readers have Tumblr, you can follow my purely bethyl blog which is** **_ohbethyl. _****I mean that'd be awesome if you did! And lemme me know on there what you think of my story. If you already follow me, woah, hey!**

The car eventually slowed to a halt as they entered a small town and passed a pokey, hidden corner shop.  
>"Man I am starved and it's another thirty minutes back to the prison," the driver complained, his hand hung lazily through the window and he signalled to the other car to stop. His fingers bent into an arrow as he wordlessly instructed his friends to enter the shop.<p>

_Another thirty minutes to the prison?_ Beth gaped at Daryl who was now slouched against the window, awake, but in pain.  
>"We ran so far, Daryl," Beth whispered, remembering the agonising journey from the battlefield their home had become to the farmhouse they'd set up in.<p>

"What was that?" The cruel man in the passenger seat asked with faux interest intonating his tone, a hand raised dramatically to his ear as if he was a star in a Broadway show.

"Nothing."

All but one of the men headed into the shop to scavenge, each of them vocalising what it was they hoped was inside: beer, cigarettes, Cheetos, Fruit Loops. _Fat chance,_ Beth smirked. She rolled her eyes when she heard their childish laughs as one man exclaimed he had his hopes set on a porno mag, left behind in the abandoned store as an unnecessary waste of backpack space for the people this World had born.

"Girls nowadays, they're alright for a good _fuck_ but they ain't clean or sexy like in the magazines, you get me? I just like to look, what!" He snorted, much to the amusement of the other's.

The man that had knocked Daryl out had stayed behind and was now leaned against the hood of the SUV, occasionally turning around to smile cruelly at Beth, his unnerving grin holding a thousand promises he was making to her, to himself, promises that she couldn't bear thinking about. He was _that_ type of guy, she could tell. Slimey, creepy. She didn't want to imagine what would happen to her in a camp full of murderous men, a camp full of men like him. She softly began to cry, tears trickling silently down her cheeks for a while before Daryl even noticed, and when he did he was unsure of what to say.

"Beth?" He whispered, his voice gentler than she'd ever heard it. She looked at him, her watery eyes connecting with his, his that were clear as the sky above and a very similar colour.  
>"Shhh, it's okay," he cooed, his words stuttered and awkward. She laughed breathily through her tears at his unexpectedly sweet voice. But then her expression changed. Her face scrunched up as she stifled a louder cry, her shoulders heaving now as the tears rained harder.<p>

"I'm... I'm sorry. This is all my fault, if I hadn't ta', if I wasn't so stupid, never have gone out..." She stammered and it took Daryl a moment to understand her point.

"Nah, nah. Don't blame yerself, this ain't your fault." Daryl mumbled, offering the blonde a small smile of reassurance. "You remember what you told me that first night at that farmhouse? When you were trashed on one glass of wine?" Daryl smirked, his grin unusually chirpy for the situation they found themselves in.

"Don't remind me," Beth smiled tightly in response, the memory of Daryl Dixon's taste and touch buzzing across her brain.

"Well, you told me you have a dream, yeah? That we'll find somewhere safe and we'd have farm animals and crops and comfy beds and music?"  
>Beth stared at him blankly, all the emotion that usually coloured her face drained from her body. She felt too guilty at this point to confess to the man before her that she didn't believe in that dream at that moment in time. She was the hopeful one out of the two, she knew that sometimes her faith was Daryl's lifeline. <em>How could she take that from him when it was her fault they were here?<em> They were staring death in the face, threatened by the Governor's men, the people that had killed and displaced her family. She had to pretend, for Daryl.

"Yeah, I remember, Daryl. We'll get out of here and we'll start looking," she smiled tightly, her eyelashes blinking rapidly to hold back the flood behind. But Daryl could see through her like glass. His eyebrows knitted and his face contorted into obvious discomfort as he sat up slowly and nodded towards a knife one of the men had left on the seat.  
>"No, we <em>will <em>get out of here. C'mon," he whispered.

The greasy man still stood at the hood of the car, whistling to himself as he lit a cigarette. He was whistling so loudly Beth was sure all the walkers near by were headed straight for them, but at least the noise was useful to mask the sound of Daryl's car door open. Beth stayed where she was, knife in hand, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for Daryl to creep up behind the guy and tackle him. Her hand rested on the door handle and her foot was poised ready to kick it open. Daryl met her eyes briefly and she could see him counting down in his head.

_1...2...3... __**Go!**_

He stuffed one hand over the man's mouth and cursed internally as he felt the cigarette burn his hand before it felt to the floor. His arm was still wrapped up in a sling so he had difficulty holding the man back with one arm, but Beth was there too now. She raised a finger to her lip to quiet him. If the situation had been slightly less urgent Daryl might've fantasised about she looked with her finger pressed to her mouth, her lips parted slightly as she made a "shush" sound.

"Keep your mouth shut and we won't kill you," her eyebrow quirked in surprise to her own dominating voice.

"Hey, Beth, pass me that smoke," Daryl motioned to the still burning cigarette on the ground. She flashed him a look that said _seriously_ as she reluctantly retrieved it from the floor and passed it to him. He raised it to his mouth as it he was going to take a drag but took it away at the last second and stabbed it into the man's cheek.

"That's for cracking me over the head, you dumb fuck," Daryl growled into his ear. Sensing the man was about to blow, Beth grabbed the gun from the holster on his hip and kicked him straight in the groin. Daryl let him go and the man fell to the floor, groaning in pain.

"That's for destroying my family."

"Beth, c'mon we gotta run," Daryl grabbed her arm but she stayed rooted to the spot, staring down at the man that writhed on the ground at her feet. She froze. Her eyebrows furrowed intensely, madness swirling in her blue eyes. a sheen of sweat swept across her face; her own words had tipped her over the edge. _He destroyed my family_.

"Fuck's sake, girl. Come on!" He tugged her harder. The next thing he realised was Beth had reached down and stuck the knife she was holding into the man's skull. Tears were streaming down her face but her eyes were still ice cold somehow.

Daryl was speechless as the girl wordlessly took his free hand and pulled him down the road. But they ran merely 20 metres before the rest of the men came running out of the store, guns blazing and yelling voices. Bullets bounced at Beth and Daryl's feet as they zig-zagged down the road, narrowly avoiding the walkers who had been drawn to the commotion. Daryl heard an engine roar behind them and instantly knew it was over. The car zoomed past them and swerved to a halt to block them in. They tried to dive into the trees but a small herd of walkers blocked them at every turn.

"YOU FUCKER, YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!" The driver bellowed as he kicked Daryl to the ground. He let out a groan as he landed on his broken arm.

"He didn't kill him! It was me!" Beth screamed when the man didn't cease his attack on Daryl. The man kicked him again in the ribs before turning to face Beth, a humourless grin on his face.

"You? A scrawny little bitch like you killed my brother? Girl, you're a streak of piss," the man spat. "I don't believe you. **Liar.**"

The way he uttered that word transported her right back to the moment her daddy was killed, and adrenaline mixed with rage deluged her every nerve ending, giving her the strength to punch the guy straight in the nose. He stumbled backwards, gripping his face as blood began to pour down his chin.

"You fucking whore, just you fucking wait!" He growled, a cruel smile grew on his red-stained lips as he reached out and yanked her close to him by her hair.

**Author's Note: Oh no! One day, perhaps something good will happen for our babies. Today is not that day! And I am cruel. I'm sorry.**


End file.
